The Army

The thousands of raindrops were so light this morning they bounced as they touched the ground. I braved the wet and went for an hour’s walk amongst yellow leaves after a sleep in. I’ve been given the day off to pack. It’s time for Master Sergeant Angelina Håkansson to rotate back to Sweden – our mission Operation Unified Protector is completed.

As a last farewell, our Italian colleagues arranged a truly spectacular lunch buffet with lots of wine, cheeses and Southern desserts. It was wonderful to have everyone gathered and in such positive and light spirit. Perhaps it’s the Fragolino, laughs and intense few weeks absorbed, but I feel very emotional about leaving.

The past few weeks have been an amazing journey and a rich learning experience. I have truly adapted to Italy. But now it’s time to go. All things sooner or later come to an end, so it’s just the way it needs to be right now. But as this familiar door closes – several new ones are already opening... I feel very blessed.

 

Today has been an eventful day. This morning I finished writing an article, which will soon be published on the Swedish Military Defence website. It’s something I’ve been putting together to raise awareness of the CULAD, or Cultural Advisor position at work.

I also passed a test in the Psychology university course I am taking. I did it over the Internet and scored 100%!

I’ve been studying at every spare opportunity in Italy, so tonight I will celebrate... In a couple of hours I’m off for Spritz with an Italian girlfriend, and then we’re meeting up with everyone at a pizza restaurant. Pizza is never served at lunchtime in Italy, since it’s a typical social dish that you’re meant to share with many friends over dinner.

Lunch on the other hand always consist of a primi and secondi piatto with wine. The primi plate is a pasta dish with Parmigiano. The secondi dish is bread, meat and vegetables with a salad afterwards, plus fruit for dessert – at least at the regiment’s 'mensa truppa'.

I didn’t even like pasta before moving to Italy. Now lunch doesn’t seem complete without it.

I also find it very difficult to resist a cup of coffee here. My favourite start of the day is a cappuccino or small latte macchiato at a coffee bar on standing foot with something sweet on the side. The porridge will have to wait until I am back in Sweden! :-) 

As the train pulled into the station after a weekend away, it surprised me how nice it felt to get "home" on Sunday night.

I’ve grown to really appreciate this place and what it represents.

In less than three weeks the stone gates that surrounds the regiment has become more welcoming and caring of who’s within. Each day the area is filled with uniforms and ranks, but most of all: personalities, equals and friends.

My perception of the regiment has transformed with the weather. In the past week the temperature in Italy has dropped. The nights and mornings are cold but the sun keeps the days bright and with clear blue skies.

After work on Monday I wrapped myself in a leather jacket and went for a walk through town. I photographed, admired some Italian shoes, communicated with several shop assistants – none who spoke English, and stopped to say hello to three friends on my way.

After picking up some food I finished the day by watching Top Gun in bed. I wonder how many grew up inspired to join the Air Force after it was released. I never saw it back in 1986, but for some reason I still wanted to join the Air Force as a kid!

I have now been in Italy for two weeks and so far I’ve had two days off from work. As soon as Friday came to an end, I rolled my suitcase through the picturesque cobble street city and checked in to a comfortable hotel on the beach.

It was just what I needed: A relaxing break from all it means to live and work behind closed gates.

It must be difficult to understand, I’m sure, what it means to be a military on mission and the pressures it puts on an individual. I believe that conforming to the military world during a mission, is even more challenging if you’re a civilian, with a civilian background. I can’t compare going to Italy with Afghanistan or Congo, obviously, but I’ve had a taste of what it means to give up your freedom, personal choice and sense of belonging.

As a civilian, your identity hasn’t been shaped by the military from an early age, or “sensitive period”, during which certain experiences from the army will make you develop into a soldier. So, no matter how hard the military tries to make a civilian conform to the military world, the critical period has long expired for him or her to ever identify as a soldier – unless the person is highly motivated to join the army of course.

But in that case, wouldn’t they do just that, instead of taking on a civilian role?

The army makes no exceptions for a civilian specialist, and behind the gates of the regiment you’re a soldier like everyone else – although your work is very different.

According to a fellow NATO colleague’s observations here in Italy: Journalists is the group of civilians that has the hardest time adapting to the army. A journalist is more individualistic than group-oriented, in their thinking. They find the uniform way of behaving and dressing, miles away from their usual way of life and expression. Presumably journalists also find it hard to comply with the hierarchical system the military promotes.

Once you put on your uniform you loose your normal sense of freedom and individual choice – you now belong to a group. For the group to function as a unit, you need to act and think as a group and only take directions from one person, someone with a higher rank, or responsibility greater than your own. Otherwise, nothing in the army would work!

Think about it… Even as civilians we have all conformed to our culture or work place one way or another. Otherwise, we’d be standing outside of society. We wouldn’t fit it – like poor artists, crazy people, or misunderstood geniuses?

Throughout history, there is proof of humans going to great lengths to fit in.

Belonging to the military is a new world for any civilian to try and adapt to. And living and working behind walls cut off from the rest of society, with guarded gates, rules and unified clothing. It can cause nothing but an imprisoned feeling. No matter where in the world you are.

I’ve now been in Italy for a week. My Italian colleagues are very warm, friendly, relaxed and reliable. They’re genuinely keen on making me feel comfortable and seem to take every opportunity to make us feel at home.

I went to the physiotherapist yesterday for a 30mins massage during lunch. When I came back the whole team was asking about my neck and if I was feeling better, and if the treatment was what I had in mind. I was even escorted to my appointment. There is no doubt the Italians knows the concept of giving and taking and it’s in their nature to look after one anther. I suppose what goes comes around, like karma.

Breakfast here is strong coffee. I’ve already developed an addiction to café macchiato in the mornings, and it completely clears my nostrils. The caffeine high last all day, and I’m experiencing an enhanced oxygen intake from just one shot. It’s quite a rush for a standard herbal tea drinker. The drink combined with small talk around the coffee machine is the best way to get to know our Italian friends.

I’m already accustomed to a steep learning curve in the military – this International peace support mission is no different. However, at last I am in an environment where my creative skills and passion for communication is translated into real products. And it’s appreciated.

OK, better dash. I've been invited for dinner at my colleague and his wife’s house, and need to pick up a nice bottle of red on my way!

Click to enlarge.

After my first day’s work in Italy, I took a long walk through the city and eventually reached the beachfront. The soft, warm colours reminded me of Rome on my last visit. As I was enjoying the sun go down, I could sense the gaze of an old man on a bicycle.

Having sat down for a while I decided to start walking again, this time on the beach. I met people exercising, walking their dogs and soon spotted a fishing boat being pulled through the shallow waters. An elderly fisherman was waiting for the boat to reach shore and he had his eyes fixed on me. He kept staring until I had passed him. For the second time in less than five minutes, it struck me: What’s going on with the older men in this town?

I continued taking photographs and eventually made my way back through a parallel road to the beachfront promenade. Guess who suddenly pulls up on a bicycle and says “Ciao” with boyish smile on his face? Oh yes, it was the first old dude. Well, hello there to you too, as it means repeating the phrase. After realizing I speak only English and no Italian, he biked off.

A frustrating question popped up in my head: Did he honestly think I’d be interested – and in what exactly? For the third time: What’s wrong with the older men in this town!? Or do they all think they’re Silvio Berlusconi and I am nothing but candy on a stick walking by?

My theory got a new turn the next day. According to my Swedish friend, who has lived in the area, there are a lot of hookers working the coastline. They come from the Eastern block or Russia, have blond hair and tend to dress fairly normal.

Jesus. That’s even worse... The idea made me cry out loud! That means I can’t go out on the streets alone. I’d even rather be disrespected and viewed as candy on a stick – than approached as a prostitute. Well, screw the old men (or not!) Tonight I am putting on my best dress and meeting up with some friends at a bar. Anyone approaching me will get a snooty primadonna reply with Russian accent: NIET – up yours!